Reflecting on the Mindfulness Association Conference last week – feelings of warmth and happiness flood my body and a smile appears on my face. I’m sitting here looking through all the photos that I took over a few days – and again I see laughter and happiness reflected in the images before me. So I…
I find it equally frustrating and amusing – my mind’s habitual pattern of imagining in the future. Having a conference to organise isn’t helping. Last minute arrangements, coordinating speakers, planning my sessions. The merchandise has arrived and hopefully the conference booklets will be ready in time. I am there in the future anxious about all…
Love the earth like a mole,fur-near. Nearsighted,hold close the clods,their fine-print headlines.Pat them with soft hands — Like spades, but pink and loving; theybreak rock, nudge giants aside,affable plow.Fields are to touch;each day nuzzle your way. Tomorrow the world. by William Stafford Just back from teaching on Holy Isle, my earth-love is very much…
As I was driving to the station this morning mulling on my blog, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody started to play on my playlist, with the starting lyrics: “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide. No escape from reality”. This resonated with an experience I had this weekend. I was walking…
It may be that when we no longer know what to dowe have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to gowe have come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings. by Wendell Berry…
When death comeslike the hungry bear in autumn;when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;when death comeslike the measle-pox when death comeslike an iceberg between the shoulder blades, I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:what is it going to…
I awoke this morning in the gold light turning this way and that thinking for a moment it was one day like any other. But the veil had gone from my darkened heart and I thought it must have been the quiet candlelight that filled my room, it must have been the first easy rhythm…
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for…
Be thankful now for having arrived, for the sense of having drunk from a well, for remembering the long drought that preceded your arrival and the years walking in a desert landscape of surfaces looking for a spring hidden from you so long that even wanting to find it now had gone from your mind…